Flower of Carnage
by Chica Love
Summary: Something is coming. Bigger than Angel. Older than Wolfram and Hart. Re-Write of my previous story "The Flowers of Carnage"


**Prologue**

The muffled sound of the music inside the club kept him from being totally bored.

But it didn't stop him from being annoyed.

Save for the attractive ones every dozen entries or so, this evening was particularly uneventful. Glancing at the line of people standing alongside the building, he spotted a few that could potentially be entertaining. Some 10 minutes, perhaps 30 minutes down the wall. So, it would be awhile. Nothing to do but breathe in the Arizona desert air and-

"Um, excuse me?"

He hadn't even noticed the petite blonde battling with her heels stumble to a halt in front of him. She had graduated to waving her hand in front of his face to get his attention.

She brightened when his gaze turned towards her. "Yes. Okay, hello!" She let out a deep breath, resting her hand on his bicep. "I'm so sorry to bother you. Really, I really am but I'm from out of town."

"Really?" He crossed his arms, leaning down to her diminutive form, faking his interest. But it just gave him a better view of her chest.

She blushed, presenting her best southern belle smile. "Sure am. I'm from La Grange, Georgia. And before ya ask, I am mighty proud."

"Gee, ain't that swell."

"Ain't it? But mister, we were just wonderin'." She motioned to what appeared to be several of her friends staring intently back at her in hopes of a positive outcome. "See, that's them over there. We were just wonderin' how much longer we're gonna have to wait?"

He looked at them, then back to her. "You know, I was just wondering the same thing?"

She patted him on the shoulder, seemingly stamping him with her approval. "Great minds think alike, huh?" She turned her back to him, and not so secretly gave her buddies a thumbs-up. Spinning back to her prey, she presented a full toothed smile. "So, if it's alright with you, could you possibly just let us through a little bit? And we'll just mosey on through and be out of your hair? 'Cuz I am sure you're tired of babysittin' all us folk out here."

He chuckled. "You have a point." He cleared his throat as he leaned down, picking up her abandoned shoes off the sidewalk. Definitely knockoffs. "But there's just one little problem." He took the hand she had on his arm and placed the shoes in them instead. "If I let you in, I take a pay cut. And…" He patted her shoulder mockingly. "I don't like you enough for that, _ma'am_." He gestured his hand politely. "Get back in line with the rest."

Her smile had dropped and been replaced with what he guessed would be considered a "southern" glare. "You mean ol' bastard." She headed back to her original spot in line.

"Aw, baby I love it when you talk dirty like that. Call me sometime!" He called after her, earning him a middle finger from her in return. "Maybe later then? No?" He turned to bow to the playful applause generated by the few men in line. "I'll be here all night."

Straightening back up, he grimaced at the rap of fingers on his shoulder blade. Rolling his eyes, he turned around. "Fuck, now wha-" He swallowed the rest of his sentence at the sight of the much shorter gentleman. Clearing his throat, he backtracked. "Sir."

The munchkin dressed in what had to have been one of the suits left over from Miami Vice's wardrobe grabbed the collar of his shirt and brought him down to his level. He let out a long breath that carried the stench of alcohol and cigars and what was most likely vagina, before smacking him on the side of the head. "What is up!" He snapped his fingers. "Is that there are more fucking dicks than pussies in my club! But then I come out here, and I catch you sending a pair of C-cups to the back of the line!"

"She got here-"

"I don't give a fuck when she got here, Lloyd!" Glancing over his bouncer's shoulder, he crooked his finger, gesturing him to lean in closer. "Get these tits into my bar." He whispered. "Or you'll be back to eating shit and cleaning it off toilets by the end of the night. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir"

"Good." He patted him on the back before retreating back into the building.

The sound of Lloyd swearing was muffled by the tires of a motorcycle coming to rest at the curb across the street. Cracking his knuckles at the thought of beating his boss after his shift, he made his way over to the front of the line. Taking the velvet rope off the stand he gestured for a few of the girls closest to the front to the displeasure of the guy standing in first position.

"Hey, bro! We've been waiting here for almost an hour!"

"And you'll be waiting here for another hour if you don't get back in line and shut the fuck up. Move back." He opened the door letting the ladies in. "And I'm not your bro." He replaced the velvet rope aggressively.

"You're a real asshole you know that?"

"What else is new?"He uttered stepping back a few steps, bumping into a body apparently trying to enter the club behind him. Grabbing the female's wrist he yanked her. "Whoa whoa." He pointed with his free hand. "Back of the line like every-"

Her fist met his throat with the accompanying sound of perhaps his wind pipe cracking. Sputtering, he gripped his throat, falling to his knees, barely noting the drops of blood on the cement before him. Less importantly that it was coming from his own mouth, which had been rendered useless.

Silence enveloped the immediate area outside, aside from the door closing behind her and Lloyd falling forward in a heap, spewing blood onto the sidewalk. For a second you could hear a pin drop. Just for a moment. But as karma would have it, Mr. First-in-Line saw fit that the least of his worries was a criminal inside. His top priority was getting in after such a long wait. So, with a whistle and a casual stroll, he hopped over the rope and opened the door, adjusting his jacket as he went inside. It was moments before the rest followed suit.

Southern Belle didn't fail to give another middle finger and a ridiculing laugh as she made her way inside.

Perhaps the big guy outside was the only security this place had. She wasn't being inconspicuous. Or perhaps they were too busy trying to regulate the sudden stream of people coming in through the front door. Because if they were paying attention, they would notice that she stood out like a sore thumb. Not because of motorcycle helmet that still adorned her head nor the fact that she was staring out the visor with obvious malicious intent. It couldn't have been the grip of the combat knife holstered to her left thigh peeking out from under her leather duster or the 9mm gripped in her right hand. No, it had to be the hilt of the sword she had sheathed on her back. That had to be the most obvious.

But it was dark. And loud. And the strafing multi-colored club lights did little to reveal anything abnormal.

Staring into the sea of bodies, her vision was almost robotic. Measuring each situation and adding it to memory all the while, looking for one particular one. Where would he be? There was the hopelessly horny on the dance floor. The hopeless hanging out at the bar. Then the drunks hanging over the second floor railings. Second floor. Money. VIP suites.

Shoving her way through, she ascended the stairs casually as to not alert anyone who might happen to be looking. Reaching the top, she panned around. It was another floor with what could be described as booths. Seemingly, occupied by the rich and "celebrity" alike but there he was. Cigar in mouth and eyes glued to the ass of the hardly adult, barely clad female giving him a lap dance. Hair slicked back like a 80's porn star. What a little grease ball. But he was not without a little brains; in the form of the two mediocre creatures he had standing on either side of his booth. Wrapped up in their own female delights no less, but on stand-by. Only a glance away.

Undeterred, she kept pace, heading straight for them. As expected, they spotted her as she neared.

"The club owner has enough female company for the night. " One said on her approach.

Grabbing his outstretched wrist, she broke it, enticing his vampiric features to quickly surface. Kicking his knee cap, he collapsed. Moving a touch to her right, she dodged the fist of the second before grabbing it at his full stretch and pulling downward, successfully snapping the vampire's arm bone at the elbow. Pulling her sword free, she decapitated the first in the same motion then thrust it backwards into the other's stomach. Sensing her target's attempt at escape behind her, she turned in his direction catching him fumbling to get past. Squeezing the trigger, her shot caught him square in the chest, knocking him back a few feet and back into his seat, his female company screaming empathically. Yanking her sword free from the last vampire's gut, she brought it through his neck, the dust scattering with the drafts of panicked people scattering about.

"Wait!" Her target coughed as she aimed her gun back in his direction. "Wait, p-please! J-Just tell me what you want."

She lifted the visor on her helmet with her free hand. "Tell me where it is."

He grimaced at the sight of his blood dripping on his shirt from his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Think."

Him shaking his head was barely viewable through his coughing fit. "I don't know." He grabbed at a napkin, fruitlessly holding it to the wound in the center of his chest, the blood soaking it in seconds. "Please just take what you want. All the money is…is in my office downstairs. In the safe. I'll give you the combination."

She took a step forward, sheathing her sword and holding her gun mere inches from his forehead. "I don't want your money." Her tone was calm. "Now, tell me where you're keeping it."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Without as much as a sigh, she unloading a round into his thigh, earning more screams from others and a bigger one from him.

"Please! Please God stop it!" He pleaded, dizziness taking hold.

"Then tell me where it is."

As his tears mixed with his own blood, sobs painfully started to erupt from him. He was about to die. If the first shot wasn't already fatal, the second shot ensured it. If she didn't kill him outright, he was going to bleed out. Right there. No medic would get there in time. But this isn't how it was supposed to end. A no-faced woman with a gun, at his club no less? It was payback for that 16 year old girl last year. But that wasn't his fault, she said she was 18. Sure, she didn't look it but what else could he do but take her word for it? She said she was in college, and when he met her she had her head in a book…

That's when it hit him.

"I sold it."

Not the answer she was looking for. "To who?"

"I don't know." He held his hand up at the sound of her cocking her weapon. "No, I just don't know exactly. There was no direct contact. We used a middle man. A middle demon. I-I don't know his name. I just know, w-where we're supposed to meet." He reached inside his jacket and produced a post it.

She snatched it from him, glancing at the address then sticking it into an inside pocket.

"That's all I know. Please, let me go so I can get to a hospital. I think I'm dying here man."

He watched in wonder as she walked out of his line of sight, freeing him to clench his chest openly, sliding to lie on his side. Everyone was bailing out. Even his half-ass security had taken off. That didn't surprise him. He assumed they were all too happy to watch him get his. Probably wanting a front row seat. Not his first choice for thoughts while dying. It wasn't supposed to be like this. His life was supposed to be flashing before his eyes. His first bike; first kiss. Happy thoughts. But he was plagued with instead, the worst of himself.

Footsteps brought him out of his self loathing. Looking up from the red leather, he was treated to the barrel of her gun aimed between his eyes.

"Don't…I'm human."

He heard a faint scoff before the instant fade to black.

Retreating her gun into the holster inside her coat, she moved forward and began to search his corpse. Finding his wallet in his back pocket, she flipped it open. Yanking out her desired item, she pocketed it, tossing the wallet onto the table. She didn't bother with the stairs this time, jumping over the railing and landing easily on the dance floor. Bodies had forgotten their dancing and were running about, running into each other, trying to escape. She moved in behind them, buttoning her jacket in case anything was showing. Upon exiting, the cops were pulling up, storming the building while others pulled escapees aside to get a description. She merely pulled her helmet visor down over her eyes and proceeded to her motorcycle across the street.

Throwing her leg over the seat, she looked over at the crowd pooling into the street. It had gone a lot smoother than she'd thought. Except for the minor hiccup that she didn't get what she came for, she had been looking forward to a much more gruesome scene than this. Pulling the key out of her coat, she stuck it in the ignition when distant words floated over the revving of her engine.

"That's her. Over there."

Glancing up she caught the sight of the blonde bimbo previously outside the club, whom at one points had enjoyed the fruits of her own labor to seek entrance, was now pointing her out. The burly cop she was speaking too pointed at her, asking for confirmation. Upon her nod, he began his approach with a hand on his firearm, signaling for several nearby co-workers to join suit.

"Ma'am!" He hollered over her engine. "Step away from the bike and put your hands in the air!"

She didn't have time for this. She could just pull off. The engine was already on. She could just sit down and take off and not be bothered with this. But she had a stop to make first and law enforcement drooling over her footprints wasn't written into her work schedule for the evening.

"I said step away from the motorcycle." He followed with a holler. "Now!"

No…she'd make time.

Relaxing her grip on the handlebars, she let the engine shut off. Pushing the kickstand back into place with her heel, she stood up turning to the 4 uniforms surrounding her. Almost mockingly, she slowly raised her arms into the air. She stood still as he made his way to her, taking his movement and steps cautiously.

"On your knees! Keep your hands up where we can see them." He nodded to the others. Two of them began their journey to her.

"Do you hear me I said on your-"His tongue got caught in-between his teeth, his weapon clattering to the ground. Looking down, he stared at the hilt of the sword protruding from his chest.

Before the shock could wear off, she grabbed one of the two cops in front of her, slamming him into the other successfully throwing off his first shot at the same time, using the slammee to intercept the bullet shot by the extra cop in the background. Grabbing the wounded cop's weapon, she let off a round, catching his shooter between the eyes before turning and unloading a couple rounds into the cop she had previously knocked over trying to crawl away. Stepping over the carnage at her feet, she made her way over to her sword, still jutting out the now kneeling cop's chest.

She stared down at him, flexing her fingers around the police weapon still held in her left hand. Taking the hilt of her katana in her free hand, she used her foot as leverage on his chest, yanking it free with a jerk, forcing him backwards onto the asphalt with a thud. She gave no thought to the fleeing club-goers and bystanders, merely turning her back to them, tossing the cop gun casually into the bushes on her way back to her motorcycle. She wasted no time bringing the engine back to life and taking off, leaving the night to fumble over the scene behind her.

She didn't have time for that. She had a long night on the road ahead of her.

Los Angeles was a hell of a drive away from Phoenix.


End file.
